The Unseen Tempest (Lords of Arcadia) (13 page)

“Hello, and welcome to Tinker and Jones, the Nine Realms’ foremost inventors. You have shown an interest in our war machines. Allow us to show you their capabilities.”

Ferra looked over as the massive mechanical lion snapped its jaws and glared at her. “What is going on?” she asked, forming an ice spear.

“Allow us to present to you the all-new Felineomatic 6000, with increased hydraulic technology. It is the last word in pursuit tactics.”

“I don’t understand,” Molly said as the exit door slid shut. “It’s not supposed to do this.”

The lion let out a deafening roar that sounded like it was a recorded sound amplified several thousand times. Ferra winced and moved into position to defend herself. “Also new this season is the Goliathtron Model N. Armed with
mythrel
-bonded armor, it is designed not only for giant defense but magical counterattacks as well.” The giant knight made a series of whirring sounds as sheets of gleaming metal slid over its limbs and chest.

“Order now, and we will throw in a complimentary Stabtech blade maker. Stabtech, when you just need something sharp.” From the knight’s palm, a stream of metal came pouring out. As it fell to the ground, it solidified and formed into a perfect great sword.

“My ice must have melted,” Caerus called out as she noticed the knight tracking her movements. “Is the workshop waterproof?”

Molly yelled over the salesroom voice, “The shop is, not the mechanisms inside.”

“And lastly, for all your invading needs, we present to you the Tank and Spank Siegealator. Made from five tons of unstoppable dwarven steel, the T&S offers the realm’s most devastating siege weapon known to man. Capable of reaching speeds of over sixty miles an hour, the Tank and Spank is your only choice when invading a castle.”

“I think we’re in trouble,” Molly said, backing away from the tank.

“Now with Hellfire missiles,” the voice added energetically, and two launchers folded out from the roof.

“How do we shut them off?” Ferra asked as the lion began to pace around her.

Molly slowly backed away from the tank, the missiles moving with her. “I’m not sure. The system is malfunctioning, so I have no idea if it will accept a shutdown.”

Caerus maneuvered away from the knight as the machine began to move its sword back and forth, readying itself for combat. “Well, figure it out! We’ll hold them off.”

Ferra glanced up at her. “We will?”

It was impossible to tell if the sapphire looked back, but she asked the barbarian, “Do you have any knowledge on how to shut down these beasts?” Ferra shook her head. “Then we fight,” Caerus said.

That was logic enough for Ferra. “For Logos,” she called out as she threw her spear at the lion’s head.

“Y
OU
HONESTLY
didn’t have a plan?” Ater asked Kor.

The elf got up and started to pace. “What time did I have? All I knew was if I killed you, Pullus’s murderer would still be out there unpunished. Casting the spell seemed to be the right decision.”

Ater made no attempt to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. “Right, now we have half of the elven army after us, and the high priestess of Koran in the lead ready to execute us.” He sighed and shook his head. “Surviving would be next to impossible
with
a plan.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand, thinking. First thing, they needed to find out where they were, and fast. He wasn’t going to think about “second thing” until he knew the first.

However, the light elf had been doing his own thinking.

“We just need to find somewhere to regroup,” Kor blurted suddenly. “A place they can’t find us.”

Ater’s sarcasm bumped up a notch when he asked, “Oh, and you know such a place?”

“No.
You
do,” Kor said, staring intently at the dark elf.

Ater opened his mouth to ask him what he meant when he got it.

“No. Not a chance in detritus,” he said, referring to the elven word for hell.

“It’s perfect,” Kor chided him. “The elves have no idea where it is, and Nystel has no power there. What could be wrong with it?”

“First, we don’t know whether Nystel has power there or not. Second, the fact they will kill you on sight,” Ater countered. “And they’ll kill me for bringing you there.”

“We’re dead if we stay here!” Kor argued.

“Trust me, the death Nystel has in mind is nothing compared to a dark elf death.”

Kor ignored the warning and asked, “But you do know where Stygian is, right?”

“Of course I do,” Ater snapped at him. Abruptly, he looked up the trunk of the nearest tree. “Stay here. I’m going to reconnoiter.” As silently as a great cat, he leapt to the lowest branch of the tree, and once certain of his path upward, disappeared from Kor’s view.

From the crown of the tree, Ater stared out over the lands below him, hoping to see the beginning of territory far beyond the lands of the elves. Expression much grimmer, he slipped down the tree a moment later. Kor glared at him, but he ignored the other elf’s temper.

“Did anyone ever teach you that when someone is lost and he starts to walk ‘out,’ most of the time he’ll walk in a circle and come back almost where he started? It isn’t a piece of lore.”

“What?” Kor sat down abruptly, stunned and weak-kneed.

“We’re within an hour of your house.” Ater did some pacing himself, although, in his case, each step was part of a recreation of the paths he knew from the elf lands to safety beyond their borders. And every single way out was too risky for the two of them. Kor might have spells on his side, but he was no experienced traveler, much less a trained assassin. And the nearest entry to Stygian lay…. Ater shook his head.

“Ater, you know I’m right,” Kor stated quietly, interrupting Ater’s thoughts.

“I know that we’re both going to be killed. That’s what I know,” the dark elf replied coldly. “I liked it better when you hated me enough to kill me right away.”

“If it helps, I still hate you.”

It didn’t.

“We need to move before they figure out what’s happened and we lose our lead on them,” Ater finally sighed. Kor nodded shortly and waited for him to take the lead. Ater walked as clean a line as possible, leaving virtually no sign he’d passed that way. He knew Kor didn’t possess the same skill but hoped he’d learn by watching. Kor followed behind him, instinctively taking the same path. At the edge of the clearing, they both turned to double back. Even to the trained eye, there was little to mark their passage.

The two elves walked for hours, neither one saying a word to the other as they pushed themselves to get farther and farther away from their pursuers. Once the sun began to set, they started to look for a safe place to rest for the night. Caves were out; the elves behind them would search those first. Even if there had been farms or a town nearby, Ater wouldn’t have taken the chance. He didn’t want to be boxed in, and the elves would show no mercy to anyone harboring fugitives. Briefly, Ater wondered if Kor understood just what he’d done to himself when he’d fled the elven home.

“We could always perch,” Kor suggested, referring the elven practice of sleeping high up on tree branches. Most elves learned the skill young in case they were caught outside their lands and found they were in need of safety.

Ater stared over at him. “Do you know how long it’s been since I have perched?”

Kor rolled his eyes as he moved toward the closest copse of trees. “Then you can strap yourself to me like you’re a child.” He produced an arrow and aimed it upward into the tree. “
Montée
,” he whispered and let the arrow go. A rope of light trailed behind the arrow as it slammed into a large branch. Kor pulled on the rope, turned back to Ater, and handed the end to him. “After you.”

Ater took the rope and looked up at the branch. All he could think of was how dead he would be if he fell out. It was ironic since he had gone to Evermore to die, but Kor was depending on him, which meant he didn’t have time to die right now. Left with no choice, he scaled up the trunk, the magic of the rope making him almost weightless. “Don’t let go of the rope once you’re up there,” Kor called up to him. “If no one is touching it, the spell assumes it’s done.”

Ater swung onto the branch and kept one hand on the rope as Kor scaled upward. Once the elf was secure, he let go of the rope, and it vanished. “We could have just climbed it,” Ater pointed out.

“Yes, and we could also leave markings as we climbed up the tree. This way, even if somehow they closed the gap, there is no evidence we’re up here,” Kor said, moving until his back was against the trunk. “Okay, come here so I can strap you in.”

Ater balked at the suggestion. “I’ll be fine.”

“Get over here,” Kor growled. “You’re out of practice, and if you fall out of this tree, we’re both caught.” When Ater didn’t move, Kor glared at him. “What is your problem?” Realizing his reluctance was more telling than his acceptance, Ater moved next to Kor and allowed the elf to strap their legs together. “See? This way if you begin to fall off, my weight will keep you steady.”

“I recall how perching works,” Ater snapped at him.

“Fine,” Kor said, confused. “I was just assuring you we are fine. Get some sleep. I’ll take the first watch.”

Ater let the matter drop and tried to get some rest, knowing it was going to be an extremely long day tomorrow. As always, the moment his thoughts slowed, his memories came to rest on Pullus. The image of his partner holding Ruber’s brother, the small grin that passed over his face… and then the hit. A bolt of fire that killed him instantly, the look of shock as Pullus simply ceased to exist. One second he was grinning, the next he was a burnt pile of meat.

Ater jerked awake as he called out.

Kor was staring at him. “Dear Koran, what is your problem?”

The dark elf cleared his thoughts as he tried to banish the image of Pullus from his mind. “Bad dream,” he remarked. “I’ll take watch. There is no way I am going to sleep after that.”

Kor looked like he was going to argue with him but then thought better of it. “Fine,” he said, closing his eyes.

Ater made sure not to look at the elf as he rested. His resemblance to his brother was unsettling. After about ten minutes of silence, Kor asked, “So what’s it like?”

They both knew he was asking about Stygian, the hidden city of the dark elves.

“Secluded,” Ater began to explain. “The founders modeled the city on the Under, carving out huge sections underground with only a few entrances to the surface.”

“How can you stand not to see the sun?” Kor asked softly. It was obvious he was drifting off.

Ater answered, “It’s easy when the sun hates your very existence.”

He waited for Kor to say something in response, but when he looked over, the elf was already asleep.

S
EVERAL
MORE
people came rushing into the room, all intent on making sure Demain was safe.

Of course, when I say people, I mean things that walked and talked but were in no way people. The hatstand that had greeted us was now a loaf of bread that talked through the slice in his crust. “Sire, sire, are you okay?”

I tried not to wonder what the crumbs he was leaving behind meant.

“Oh dear, Pol, you’re perishable,” the bird commented.

Only then did it seem to occur to Pol that he was a loaf of bread. “No, oh please no. Your Highness, I beg for a better flip. Please.”

His voice was pure despair.

I could tell the queen was affected, but she hid it well as she looked to the goose and said, “Ocell, please take Pol somewhere colder so he will not rot as quickly.” To Pol she said, “I’m sorry, but you know the rules. If someone is willing to trade a flip with you, you’re free to take it, but I cannot play favorites. There are simply too many people in need.”

“I’m bread!” Pol screamed at her as Ocell tried to usher him out of the room. “
I
am in need.”

The two of them walked out and the crystal door closed behind them. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room afterward. So, of course, I was the one to say something.

“Okay, what the hell just happened?”

Demain examined her desk. The edges on either side were crystal, but the center was still wood. “The basic laws of reality are falling apart,” she explained. “We call it Fluctuation, and it occurs when the fabric of the current reality wears itself out. No one can explain why, but when it happens, everything hit by the wave is changed into something else. People, places, anything is simply converted into something else. I assume it was your portal that caused this one. The fabric was just too thin to take an unplanned insertion.”

Milo began to wring his paws. “I am so sorry, mistress. I hadn’t thought the spell would….”

Demain waved off the rest of his apology. “It’s not your fault. If it wasn’t your portal, it would have been something else.”

“Why do you blame my mother for this?” Hawk asked. I could sense the incredulous nature of his question.

She looked over to him, and I could see a burning hatred in her eyes. I don’t think it was toward him per se, but with fairies in general. “Because when your mother planted the world tree on your world, it caused everything to be misaligned. The natural connection between realms was shattered, and this is the result.”

Hawk seemed unimpressed by her explanation. “Faerth has been the center of the Nine Realms forever. Why is this happening now?”

The queen gave him a double take, which would have been funny if it had been followed by a “What you talking about, Willis?” but in this case was not funny at all. “Forever? Is that what she told you?”

“I didn’t need to be told,” Hawk shouted back. “It is history that we have been the center of everything.”

Demain didn’t miss a beat as she screamed back, “She changed the history, you idiot. She has the ability to manipulate reality. Do you honestly think she would leave proof of her crime?”

I could feel the shock in Hawk’s mind, but his face didn’t show it at all. “You’re insane. The world tree has been in my family for generations.”